My name is Loss
place of birth, Pandora’s box.
I am the sibling of Sorrow.

I waited in silent darkness
For so many years
Biding my time while my siblings squabbled
I am the quieter of the bad things.

I deal in isolation
Solitude and I have grown to be good friends.
I waited.

And when we were born
when we were released into Everything,
I found opportunity
while my siblings found infamy.

I found power in the quiet things:
A funeral of three.
A rose nipped in the bud.

Loss
Is not so much an experience
as a statement.
And still does my modesty secure my own persistence.